Oh. My. Dear. Sweet. God.

Last night he went to bed with a tantrum. Everyting was fine this morning until I asked him where his winter coat was, since it's twenty something outside. (April- gotta love it.) Fast forward to screaming, wailing, banging doors, stomping, refusing to go to school, put shoes or glasses on, breaking things and throwing chairs. Ugh. So what do I do when nothing works?

Call Dad. Duh.
(For those of you who don't know, my dad is just like Judge Judy, except worse.)

Dad talked to him on the phone and told him to "quit the bullshit, because if you make me come over there, there's gonna be a size ten shoe up your ass that you're gonna have to dig out with a shovel." Gotta love dad.

So then he puts on the coat, but won't put on the shoes. I tried to put them on him, but he was kicking and screaming, so I wound up sitting on his legs to put them on. He just yanked them off again. So I picked up the phone and dialed the first three digits of our number, and he's all, "No! No! I'll put my shoes on!" And he did, but then he just sat there, so I picked him up and shoved him through the front door.

Have delivered smack down. Go me.

(no subject)

Blah. I feel so unfeminine. I guess it's the cargo pants and black muscle tank. Usually I don't notice how boyish I look. I guess I should start shopping in the girls department for something more than underwear.

(no subject)

Blah. I feel so unfeminine. I guess it's the cargo pants and black muscle tank. Usually I don't notice how boyish I look. I guess I should start shopping in the girls department for something more than underwear.